[video]
forgot how much i love this. thanks meg.
the only thing you’ll ever remember enjoying was fucking the breath out of another human being.
love-crafting flesh machines. We are meat on wire. We are gardens of nerve-endings, cherry-tree chapels of saltwater and climax. Nothing is more human than the math that makes humans. We do not bump uglies. Do not bang. We, collide like feather-backed orchids bouqeted. Our best selves are bundled with others. In the slippery two-step of sweaty population we thrive. Mix liquors and shake up a brown-eyed, blonde-haired cocktail. Name her Maria and gulp up the wine of a borrowed immortality. She takes our skin with her and hands it down. She takes our eyes, pawns them. presses a hot coin into her breast and calls it a birthmark. This is how we know god best. Through creation. Your crucible - a notch nicked in you by makers - is a cauldron. A soft iron. A leaking concrete. This tulip lipped mouth inhales fellow men and speaks children. Here, in this melting, petal-tongued slipper of holding - is the bones of another century. To enter these doors - peel back curtains of salt - to tread unafraid into the flash of genesis (torchless), is a higher end than heaven’s open gate. And always, there is danger to be known by break-dancing in your skin-tone whirlpool. I do headstands. Literally walk down the block hopping on my cock like Treebeards pogo stick. I am hydraulic when I get juicy. I am a man who does not eat of your melon. I smoke fruitjuice and drink canteloupe water from the cup of ur open-rib vinegar-sponge crucifix wound. Ten thousand thorns in a kitten’s belly carpet. I use bendy straws in this business. Like anything worth doing - fucking might fucking kill you. Hearts have stopped in the act - fucking has rendered people blind, deaf, and paralyzed. Its also seen a urethra kiss death into the rosy cheeks of a cervix. Plant the sapling of imminent blackness. Sound-shortening, moment-amplifying, realness. Truth in the face of the next twelve prophets. We always open at the close. To gamble in your strawberry casino. Sling dice off your motherly rubber. To wager with the waxing moon is a pony I’ve never feared knitting green-paper whips for. When the techno of your heartsong drops a series of raspberry-jam mountains into an expanse of one neverending note. at that moment, the only thing you’ll ever remember enjoying was fucking the breath out of another human being.
[video]
an abundance of clarity in my life.
Defending Traditional Marriage The Traditional Way! -
Hiram Monsseratte, state senator, democrat, pig of a human who voted against the gay marriage bill. Shown here in this video respecting traditional marraige by dragging his bleeding girlfriend, screaming and crying from their building after she “accidentally” slashed her face with broken glass. Requiring 40 stitches.
He was acquitted.
reblogging wouldnt be a bad move.
sorry for the link, tried embedding twenty times.
Two Of The Most Important People In My Little Life Getting Love
[video]
thanks to sarah
“
Why is sex work necessarily more degrading than working at McDonalds, or a Dunkin Donuts for that matter? Both involve the sale of ones body, and labour power to a certain degree. Both involve not being adequately compensated vis a vis profits versus wage, yet pornography is deemed horribly degrading. I submit that this because womens sexuality is only culturally acceptable when it is virginal in nature. Good girls, or authentic women don’t actually enjoy performing sex acts, or participating in any form of voyeurism. Certainly there are women working in the porn industry that are not happy about that choice but not all women feel that way. If you ask Walmart workers, I some will tell you that they are not happy working there either.
For us to accept this as completely degrading to women, we must ignore those in the sex trade industry who unequivocally state that they perform this labour because they enjoy it, and therefore if we truly feel that it is necessary to respect women, we should validate their experiences and accept their explanations about their labour. Is it still demeaning if the one performing does not feel demeaned? By telling sex trade workers that they are uniquely oppressed are we not guilty of seeking to discipline their bodies in the same manner that we accuse others of doing? Are we not creating them as other?
” —via Womanist Musings (via ihatethismess) (via igather)
boo-yah.
these things were awesome.
hahahahaha!
that’s pretty funny no?
yes.